


Spirit Detective

by ImBackBoi



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Because WHY NOT? It's perfect! Why hasn't it been done before?, Do I know what I'm doing? No. No I do not., Gen, Inspired by Yu Yu Hakusho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23267794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImBackBoi/pseuds/ImBackBoi
Summary: Jason was supposed to live. Batman was supposed to save him. There was such a small chance of him dying that Charon hasn't got any room on the boat for him to cross the Styx. So, instead of leaving him to sit by the river side for centuries, Heaven decides to send him back.Now, he sees dead people, fights demons, and has mystical powers. Jason's going to help Gotham if it's the last thing he does.Why? Because she asked nicely.
Relationships: Bruce and Dick and Jason and Tim and Alfred and Barbara, batfam - Relationship
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Do not expect any more real updates until after Easter. 
> 
> ALSO, do not expect any shounen style battle tournaments, because it's just not as cool in fanfiction than it is in the animes (or in my head). 
> 
> btw, why hasn't this been done before? C'mon. Jay-bird would make the perfect Yuusuke style hero. ALL THE ELEMENTS ARE THERE!

“Where am I?”

“You're dead.”

“ _What?”_

The ground beneath his feet was was black and sandy. Jason could see, but it was dim, and the only light came from the starry sky. Before him lay an expanse of water so wide he couldn't see the other side. On that water was a boat full of dimly shimmering orbs, with a short lines of shimmering orbs leading into it.

“Did you hear me kid? I said, 'You. Are. Dead'.” A bone hand waved in front of his face. Jason blinked and followed the bones to a heavy, black and voluminous sleeve, to equally heavy, black and voluminous robe. When he looked up to where the face should be, there nothing but a round hole of nothingness.

Jason croaked.

“Sheesh. Okay, I'm going to take that as a yes. Now, listen,” the round hole of nothingness leaned down to Jason's level as it spoke, “I don't have room for you on the boat, okay? You're going to have to stay here.”

“What?”

“The boat is full. I can't take anymore souls across the river this century. Which is kind of a shame kid, because you didn't deserve to die. Not like that anyways. I mean, the chances of you dying in that situation were super slim. We were all surprised. Shocked. Astonished.”

Jason choked. There was only one orb left to get on the boat. The teenager thought it looked kind of familiar.

“Don't worry about her, kid,” the face of nothingness said, “Judgement is pretty immediate. Heck, the time it takes for us to cross the Styx and come back is a blink, but here it's forever. A little wibbly-wobbly, I know, but still.”

“Won't others come?” his voice was faint, “Are you Charon?”

“Yes and _yes_. Finally, someone who reads. We're going to get along great when I get back.”

Jason made a disgruntled noise. Then he noticed a light. It was small at first, barely a speck when it first appeared next to Charon, but then it got bigger and the light grew brighter.

“Oh, snap. Looks like there's a message from upper management, kid.”

So bright was the light that even Charon had to raise a bony hand in front of his face. Not that there was a face. Or that the hand really did much. The light elongated, grew limbs, and then dimmed enough to be looked at. However, it had no distinctive features other than a body and 'limbs'.

“Greetings, O Charon. O Jason.”

Jason waved in awe. Charon responded with, ''Sup.”

“I come bearing a message. Thou whose name is Jason is to be returned to the land of the living, and yf he can complete the trial presented before him, he mayest resume his lyfe.”

“Uh, what trial?” Jason paused, “O Angel?”

Charon shot him a thumbs up.

One of the Angels limbs reached inside its glowing center and pulled out an egg,

“By doing good works, thou shalt hatch thine spirit egg. Shouldst thou commit evil deeds, the beast that hatches from thine egg shall consume you and deliver you into everlasting fire and damnation.”

Jason accepted the egg. It was smooth and cool to the touch, maybe about the size of a normal egg from the store.

“So, do good deeds, hatch the egg, come back to life?”

“Yes.”

“Man, don't see this everyday,” Charon leaned down and examined the egg. “Message delivered then?”

“Yes. Hey, try not to screw this up, alright?” said the Angel, “Do you know how often I get to do stuff like this? Like, almost never.”

“Uh-huh, what if I don't _want_ to hatch some egg.”

Charon and the Angel exchanged glances.

“Then you stay here. Alone. Until I come back.” The boatman gestured to the river bank. Already there were other orbs lined up down the river. As he was looking, another blinked into existence.

“Doesn't seem so bad. Peaceful.”

“It may seem that way,” the Angel said, “but there would be no communication with anyone else. Every soul is isolated, despite the multitudes, just you, by yourself, no books, no nothing. Your life, Jason, has been a battlefield of pain with very little hope. Do not deprive yourself of a second chance for purgatory.”

“The Angel's right kid. I mean, you'd get to where you're going eventually, but it'd be one hell of a wait.”

Jason rolled the egg in his palms. _Always with the tests,_ he thought bitterly. _Always have to prove I'm good enough. Can't catch a break, even when I'm dead._

“Peace, kid.” Jason got the feeling the Angel was smiling at him, “We already know your soul is good, otherwise this chance would never have been granted.”

Jason felt like crying. He clutched the egg close.

“I didn't kill him.”

The Angel placed a bright hand on Jason's head.

“We know.”

…

“It was the strangest thing, Alfred,” Bruce murmured as he sat vigil at Jason's bedside, “he was dead. He'd been dead for at least ten minutes.”

“If you'll take my advice, Master Bruce,” Alfred checked the saline bag, “Don't question the gift you've been given.”

“Yeah, you big dumb baby,” Jason took a swipe at Bruce's head, only to have his hand go right through it, “Don't look the gift horse in the mouth, will ya? Can't you just be grateful?”

Bruce stared wistfully at the limp hand entwined with his.

“I know Alfred, it's just...”

“Master Bruce-”

The door burst open.

“Bruce!”

“ _Here_ we go,” Jason sighed as Dick barged into the room. He was closely followed by Barbara, “It's the peanut gallery.”

Jason ignored the ensuing argument and floated over to Alfred. He tried putting his arms around the older man but he kept passing right through.

“I'm sorry, Alfred. So sorry.” A quick flash of light caught his eye. Jason squinted out the window and caught it again. It was small, but significant. “Oh hell, no. I'll be back, Al. I'm going to go haunt me a peepin' tom.”

Jason took one last sad glance at the arguing trio, tried to give Alfred one more hug, then flew out the window. Flying was pretty cool, he had to admit, whooping as he did loop-de-loops.

“Good thing I'm not corporeal,” he laughed, “Man! I wonder how often Superman has to pick bugs out of his teeth.”

He glided over the treetops and searched for the area where he'd seen the flash. Camera lens? Binoculars? Shiny thing stuck in a tree?

“One way to find out,” he dove into the trees, “Man! That was quick.”

Perched on a tree branch, half clinging to the tree trunk, binoculars pressed to his face, was a kid maybe two or three years younger than himself. He had a camouflage net draped over himself like Batman wore his cape.

“Please don't fall, please don't fall-” the kid was muttering to himself, “Can't see. Need to get higher.”

“You're totally going to fall.” Jason floated up to the kid, “Hey, have we met before?”

Binoculars fell and the face turned out to be the neighbor kid. They'd met exactly once a long time ago at one of Bruce's parties. Jason snapped and pointed.

“Tom, right?”

Tom ignored him and started climbing higher.

“You should really stop while you're ahead, Tommy-boy,” Jason tried holding the kids leg to get him to stop climbing higher. It didn't work. Surprise, that.

“I have to find out what happened to Jason,” Tommy-boy muttered to himself, “If something bad happened to Robin, Batman's going to flip.”

Jason dropped a few feet in the air before he floated back up, gawping.

Tom perched himself on a branch, leaned out, one hand holding his binoculars to his face, the other latched the tree. It creaked ominously.

“Dicks' back! Wow, it must really be bad...” Tom said, “who's that? She's – oh, my gosh, she must be Batgirl!”

The boy on the branch vibrated as he gushed to himself. Jason winced as the branch creaked.

“You little shit!” Jason swore, “When I wake up, we're going to have words and you may or not end up with a broken nose. Fair warning. I don't like being spied on.”

Tom ignored him. A breeze ruffled his hair and his camo-cape caught on some branches

“This is so awesome! I wish I had my camera-”

_Cri-crack_

Tom fell so quickly Jason barely had time to grab the kids ankle. The kid began hyperventilating.

“Shit, kid, breath!” Jason snapped, “I'm going to lower you to another branch. Grab it, okay?”

Tom's head jerked up so fast Jason almost got whiplash himself. He gasped -

“ _Jason?”_

Jason dropped the kid. The kid shrieked and flailed, crashing into branches. Jason dove after him and caught his foot again; Tom jerked to a halt.

“Kid? Kid? Tom!” Jason wiggled the body and got no reply. He sighed, “Did you seriously flipping faint on me? Fudge it.”

Jason slowly lowered the boy the rest of the way to the ground and tried not to settle him at an awkward angle. He sat and waited for the boy to wake up. It didn't take long for the kids eyes to snap open and stare up into the tree he had just fallen from.

“Shit, Tim,” Tom whispered. Then he sat up and looked around.

Jason waved a hand in front of his face, “Can you see me?”

Nothing.

“Fudge,” Jason sighed again.

...

Deep within the bowels of the earth beneath Gotham City, a slumbering evil stirred. 


	2. Chapter 2

Dick and Barbara left later that evening. Dick still fuming and upset, Barbara upset and in tears. Or she had been. It looked like she'd cleaned herself up by the time Jason got back from making sure Tom – _Tim_ had gotten home safely. He'd come just in time to watch Dick and Bruce give each other the silent treatment before the older walked out on the younger and the younger slammed the door to the manner.

A feat, considering their size and weight.

“I know you guys never get along when I'm awake, but could you at least try and get along when I'm comatose? C'mon, some people are trying to rest here!” Jason tried to lighten the situation as he ghosted through the door into the back seat of Dick's car and settled himself with his feet through the older teens head.

“I can't believe he didn't even call me!” Dick smacked his hand on the steering wheel, “I had to find out through a damned report!”

“I know,” Barbara nodded.

“I mean, he's my fucking brother-” Jason raised his brows, “I deserve to know when he almost dies! Or does die and comes back to life. He wouldn't even speak to me up there! You saw that. Not a damn word! It's like he's punishing me for something I had no control over, like, 'how come you weren't there to save him, Dick?'. Sorry, Bruce, I was in outer-fucking-space and it's not like you ever let me around your _son_ anyways. _”_

So focused on the back of Dick's head, Jason barely noticed Barbara's shiny red head nod in his peripherals.

“Wow,” Jasons fist curled and he began speaking over the older teens rant, “First off, we're not brothers. Two, you don't even like me. Three, you don't get to bitch about it like you care when you don't. For you, this is just another thing to crucify Bruce with. And, technically, you never came around period.”

“-and why is it _so damn cold?”_ Dick shouted as he wriggled in the drivers seat and rubbed the back of his head. Scowling, Jason viciously bicycled his feet through the drivers seat from his spot directly behind it, “ _Fuck!”_

Dick unbuckled, slammed the door open in his haste to get out of the car.

“Dick, are you okay?” Barbara leaned through the car to stare at the young man. Dick was busy swearing and rubbing his body down.

“I'm _fine_.”

“Four,” Jason went on like someone was actually paying attention to him, “You don't like me either, Babs, so I'm not even sure what the hell you're doing here.”

Dick crawled back into the car and started it. Placed his hands at ten and two. Stared out the windshield.

Barbara stared at her hands.

“Bruce never should have made him Robin,” Dick said tightly, “He was too angry. Too rash. Too headstrong to listen to reason. He got himself killed. _Bruce_ got him killed.”

Jason stared.

“He's not dead,” Barbara whispered. “Dick, he's not dead.”

“Jason was dead for ten minutes. What's up there right now is not him. It's just an empty shell and Bruce is deluding himself if he thinks Jay's just going to wake up one day and everything is going to be hunky-dory because he's not.”

Silence.

“Do you know what the first thing I said to him was? When Batgirl met the new Robin?” Barbara said faintly, staring at her hands. “Honest to god, real conversation with out Batman looming over his shoulder?”

“Babs-”

“I said, 'You'll never be Dick Grayson.'” She ignored him, “Do you think he was always angry because I never gave him a chance? Because _we_ never gave him a chance? A _real_ chance? Do you remember when you took him to meet the Titans?”

Dick stayed silent.

“Do you think he hates me?” Barbara looked up at him, tears in her green eyes. Dick reached over, cupped the back of her neck and brought their foreheads together. Her eyes shut and fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

“No one could hate you,” Dick whispered, “It's going to be okay, Babs. Everything is going to be okay.”Dick kissed her forehead, pulled away and strapped on his seat-belt. Then, he put the car in gear and drove away from the Manor. Jason willed himself to stay still, allowing the car to pass through and away with out taking him with it.

...

Jason sat on his bed, on his own feet, staring at the egg cupped in his hands. The bottom third of it glowed with a gentle golden light.

A week had passed since Dick and Barbara's visit and he'd made himself scarce each time they came back.

Two weeks since he'd gotten the boot from the under-world.

“Whatever you hatch into,” he whispered to the egg, “I hope you're something cool. But really, I just hope that you like me. I don't have many friends and it'd be nice to have someone who likes me for me and doesn't tolerate me just because my foster-dad is Bruce-fucking-Wayne.”

The egg listened quietly.

“Do you like books?” he asked. Jason paused, then began again, “Wait, let's do this right. Hi, my name is Jason Todd. I died, then I got better. What's your name?”

Jason listened to the silence.

“You're shy. Okay, that's fine. You can tell me when you hatch,” the boy rubbed his thumb over the eggs smooth shell, “But, just so you know, I'm very pleased to meet you.”

Jason lay down next to his body and curled around the egg, suddenly exhausted.

“Do spirits sleep?” he asked the egg. Jason shifted and stared at his living body. “At least we know I'm getting plenty of rest, right?”

The egg said nothing and Jason sighed.

…

Alfred opened the door and for a wild second, he could have sworn there were two Jason's laying on the bed. Then he blinked, and it was just the one laying there, empty and quietly existing as life went on around it.

Him.

“Good morning, Master Jason,” Alfred bustled into the room, set his things down at the foot of the bed, and went to draw the curtains. Morning light filled the room, “I trust you slept well? Hmm. Very good, sir, I'm pleased to hear it.”

Alfred turned and began to draw back the boys covers.

“I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to move for a few moments, today, young master. It's time to change your sheets.” The butler absently folded the blanket, “I'm afraid Master Bruce wont be in until later. He had some urgent business to attend to this morning, but he should be back by noon to dine with you.”

Alfred reached for the sheet, “I do believe Master Dick has plans to come over today and read to you – oh, my!”

The sheet fluttered to the ground.

“My word,” he breathed, reaching out to touch Jason's legs, “What on earth...”

Jason's legs glowed brightly, all the way up to mid-thigh. As Alfred stared, the sun shifted, the room dimmed, and the bright gold encasing Jason's lower limbs faded.

The butler pressed a hand to his eyes.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,” he muttered, “More things in heaven and earth.”

When Alfred looked again the glow was still gone. He breathed deep and steadied himself.

“Well, Master Jason, it seems you are full of surprises today,” he paused, “Though, perhaps I am dreaming. Or maybe my philosophy needs some work. However, mark my words well, young man, we'll be discussing this later.”


	3. Chapter 3

“I have a feeling,” Jason said, zooming behind Tim as he darted around the seedier areas of Gotham City, “That keeping up with you is going to get my egg hatched faster than keeping up with Batman or even Dick-head, and that guys picture is literally in the dictionary next to the entry 'trouble magnet'. I should know. I put it there. FYI, it's also next to 'dick' and 'penis'.”

Tim paused and poked his head around a corner. 

“And you know what, it's not even like I've been watching over you specifically.” Jason linked his fingers behind his neck and laid back, “Just doing my thing along the way. When I'm back in my body, I'll add your picture next to Dick-heads, but only to the first entry. And also next to 'stalker'.”

Jason followed as Tim slipped into the alley and began collecting his skateboard from behind a dumpster. 

“And then we're going to have a nice long chat about actually stalking fricking Batman!”

“Hey kid,” a voice hissed. Tim froze. “You wanna have a good time?”

Tim turned, clutching his skateboard. Jason scowled. 

Where the hell did this guy come from?

“No, not really,” Tim squeaked then cleared his throat, “Uh. No, thank you.”

The man grinned menacingly and Jasons fist clenched. There was something wrong with the guy, he just couldn't quite put his finger on it. His eyes narrowed. 

“Time to go, Timmers.”

Tim began inching away. 

“Oh no, don't go,” the man grinned wider, “I have something you'd really like.”

“Well,” Tim wavered, voice mellowing in a way that made Jason cold and he didn't even have a body! “Maybe you'd have something I'd like...”

“That's right, boy,” the man soothed and kneeled, his voice taking on a strange quality, “Come here and let me show you.”

Tim nodded absently and stepped towards the man, skateboard dragging along the ground.

“Oh hell no-!” Jason swooped down to grab Tim by the shoulders and -

“What the fuck-” Jason coughed, bending over at the waist, “I mean fudge. Son-of-a- hoo!” Jason straightened and cracked his back, “Buddy, I don't know what the hell just happened, but your ass is grass.”

The man, and wow did he look different now – kind, friendly, the type of guy who would never, ever in a million years, harm a kid instead of the shadowed and reptilian menace that Jason could still sense – stared at him intensely. 

“What...?”

Jason smirked and hefted the skateboard, “Hold still.”

The man reared back as Jason swung the skateboard and caught the guy in the jaw with a crack. He hissed and dodged Jason's next attack. They faced off. The man wiped the blood off his face with his wrist and then licked it off with a super long, forked tongue. 

“That's disgusting,” Jason wrinkled his-Tim's nose. 

“You smell different,” the no longer nice looking man flicked his forked tongue. 

“Like sunshine and daisies, amIright?”

“Like death,” Jason scowled and the man (did he have scales?) grinned (were those teeth pointed!?). The fuck, “and delicious.”  
…

Tim blinked. His jaw dropped. On the ground before him was a man(?) in a trench coat. A long snake like tail slipped out between his legs and from beneath his coat. Tim shivered, suddenly freezing. He back up, the further away from the body the warmer he got. 

“Skateboard!” he stopped abruptly and looked around. Tim spotted it against the wall and his shoulders sagged. 

“Awe, skateboard, what happened to you?” trotting towards it was like taking a sudden dip into freezing water, but he persevered and scooped up the shattered remains of his skateboard. “I should take a picture. For posterity.”

The temperature dropped again.

“Or not?” Tim could see his breath, “Okay, I can take a hint, but really, it could be evidence for later-”

Invisible hands shoved him and he stumbled back, wide eyed.

“Alright, alright, I'm leaving.”

Tim's life was insane.  
…

Alfred was sitting by Jasons bedside when he floated in through the wall. The butler had a book in one hand, tea on the nightstand, and was slightly under-dressed – for Alfred. Meaning he wasn't wearing a tie or coat, but instead had on a warm looking sweater jacket thing (cardigan, the man had called it once). 

Perhaps the strangest thing though, was that Jasons feet, his real feet, were sticking out at the end of the bed uncovered.

“Hey, Al, I'm going to catch a cold if you do that!” the ghost boy protested, settling in onto the bed in between himself and the butler. “What are you reading?”

Alfred turned the page. 

“Hey that's cool, don't answer me. It's not like I can't read the title or nuthin'.”

Alfred glanced up at Jason's feet, then went back to his book. Jason took out his egg. 

“Wow, following Tim-bits around really did a number on you, didn't it?”

The egg when he'd last looked at it had been at about the one-third mark. Now was over half way full of the glowy. Jason chuckled. The glowy. Ha. 

“Sorry,” he rubbed invisible dust off the egg with the hem of his ghostly shirt, “It's not really all that funny.” 

Jason turned towards the window and sighed. There was a red glow in the east. He loved his window. Loved the fact that it faced the sunrise, something he'd never really saw on the streets and had been to young to really appreciate when things had been good. The egg remained cupped in his hands.

Minutes passed. The red glow brightened, clouds streaked across the sky in burnished pinks and golds; red faded into orange and peach, the retreating indigo turned into lavender blue. Jason thought it must have been a gift just for him. As the sun crested the horizon, Jason touched his chest and imagined he could feel his heart beating.

Something shattered. Jason jerked around. 

“Alfie, what's wrong- Oh.”

Alfred stood, trembling, reaching for Jasons body. His feet were glowing. 

“I -,” Alfred choked on his words as he ripped the covers back. Just over half of his body was bright gold. He touched Jasons legs, “Bruce. Master Bruce, I must fetch Master Bruce immediately -” 

“Go on then,” Jason shooed the man, not that he heard him, “Go get the big boob, it's not like I'm going anywhere.”

“I don't understand it,” Bruce said solemnly after he'd come. His hair was a wreck, his eye bags had bags, and he'd apparently fallen asleep in his clothes, “You say this happened yesterday, too.”

“Yes, though I believe now that I'd caught the tail end of it?” Alfred mused, “I had assumed it was a hallucination.”

“Bruce, you need to get more sleep,” Jason stuck his hand through the mans head. Bruce swatted absently at the air around him. “Hilarious.” 

The three were silent. Waiting. 

Quietly, the sun left the horizon, and the bright gold vanished. 

“Did you see that, Alfred?”

“Indeed, sir.”

Bruce rubbed his eyes.


	4. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason visits Tim. Zatanna visits Bruce, with mixed results.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I vastly prefer the BtAS Zatanna who is Bruce's age. 
> 
> Ok, so, you're going to notice that I'm only really doing three scenes per chapter. That is because I'm working on my self control and story management and everyone else gets to suffer through obscenely short chapters for it.
> 
> Sorry, not sorry >.>''''

Tim rinsed the last of the shampoo out of his hair and turned of the water. Then he reached behind the shower curtain, fumbled around for a second, finally snagged a towel, then ripped open the curtain.

One hallucination

Two black outs in two weeks.

And numerous, unexplained cold spots randomly popping up.

“Maybe I'm going insane?” Tim asked himself as he dried off and pulled on some underwear, “No, I don't think so. Neither of my parents families have a history of insanity.”

He paused.

“That I could find anyways.” Tim began toweling his hair, “Maybe I should check again?”

He stopped and pulled on a shirt.

“Is it possible that I really did see Jason Todd in a tree?” Tim gasped, “Is Robin _haunting_ me?”

Condensation rolled down the mirror in a surprisingly thick and straight line. As he watched, absently contemplating the ramifications of being haunted by _Robin,_ which would explain the black out he had in the alley if _Robin_ had possessed him to kick that guys butt _with his skateboard(!),_ more thick lines appeared in the steam on his mirror.

_B_

Tim didn't notice as he plopped onto the toilet seat lid. _Maybe that really had been Jason in the tree!_

O

“Oh my goshohmygosh,” Tim began to hyperventilate, abruptly he sat up straight, “What would Batman say if he found out his son was haunting me?!”

O

He stared at his mirror, seeing by not really noticing.

_B_

_I_

_..._ slowly, an E finished drawing itself-

_S_

“ _Boobies?_ ” Tim gawked. “ _That's what you write?! BOOBIES?! Robin doesn't write boobies on mirrors!”_

A little smiley face with its tongue sticking out squeaked into existence. Then,

_'Sorry about your skateboard'_

“Oh. Don't worry about it.” Tim got up, took a step, and fainted.

In the Aether, Jason rolled his eyes and sighed. He'd come back later.

…

Later that night...

Bruce looked up blearily as Zatanna appeared in a puff of smoke.

“Alright,” she said, hand on her hip, “What's the emergency – oh. Is that...?”

“Robin,” the man ran a hand through the hair of the comatose teen, “Jason. My son.”

“Robin is your _son_...?” the woman clapped a hand over her eyes and began muttering to herself. “Never mind. You know what, what you do is your business, Bruce, and if you want to endanger your child then so be it. Have you learned your lesson about that, yet? Or does it need repeating?”

“That is _not what I -”_ Bruce snarled and cut himself off abruptly. He took a deep breath and exhaled. Zatanna had dropped what she was doing to be there. Zatanna was his _friend._ Supposedly.

The magician waited.

“I know, intellectually, that he never should have been out there. The boy was rash. Hot headed. Dick was right, I never should have trusted him in the field. He got himself-”

The temperature dropped to freezing. They froze.

“Robin?” Zatanna asked quietly.

The chair Bruce was sitting on exploded; his butt hit the floor hard.

“Jason? Jason, I'm -” he exclaimed breathlessly, then flinched when the light fixture exploded. “I'm sorry!”

Zatanna lunged for her friend and grabbed his arm. _“Ereh fo-”_

Books exploded off the shelves like cannon balls; papers flew and whirled.

“ _-tuo su teg!”_

…

Zatanna leaned against Bruce's side, head on his shoulder. They sat on the couch in the sitting room. Alfred sat in one of the wing back chairs, wishing quite strongly for something more than tea.

“I'm sorry, Bruce,” she whispered.

“It's not your fault, Zee.” Bruce's voice was muffled against his hands. “It only proves my point.”

There was a light cough and the pair looked up at Alfred.

“If I may, Master Bruce. Perhaps he didn't like being blamed for his own death. You will recall, there was more than one party involved.”

Bruce looked stricken.

“You might also remember that Master Dick was also much younger when he first went out and was quite the hot-head,” Alfred continued, pained. Hard truths hurt because they were true, “And still can be; something we can all agree on, I'm sure. Now, if what is up there in that room with Master Jason is indeed his own incorporeal self, then I greatly doubt he enjoyed being called to task over something that may not have happened the way we think it might have.”

Zatanna made a face.

“If it will help us solve this mystery, then please tell us, Miss Zatanna.”

The magician hesitated.

“The Teen Titans. Dick's team has an empath on it.”

“The demon.”

“Yes. If that's really Jason upstairs... If my idea doesn't work, then she would be the one to call on. Quicker and 100 percent more reliable than an ouiji board.”

Some strong tea and thirty minutes later found the three back in Jason's room with brooms and large trash bags. Zatanna took the bags from Alfred, saying, “Here, let me help.” After which, she tossed the bags inside and pronounced, “Ssem siht pu naelc!”

There was a crack and the carnage vanished, leaving the room clean but untidy. The bags were full and tied up neatly.

“Impressive.”

“Thank you,” Zatanna cheerfully stepped aside to let Bruce, at Alfred's prompting, grumpily haul the bags out, “I hate housework.”

“But you do it so well, Miss Zatanna.”

Bruce came back into the room and snapped,

“Can we got on with it now?”

“Sure. Please stay back, just in case.” Zatanna rolled up her sleeves and pulled out her wand. She held it and her out like a conductor. Then, she gave it a swish,

_“Ereh ni si taht tirips eht su wohs!”_

Above Jason's body, a dark shadow of a boy appeared that was quickly engulfed by a searing spark. It grew bigger and brighter until it rivaled the sun. Thunder rumbled. There was a crack and the light burned through their eyelids. Something screamed, primal and fierce. Bruce had his hands over his ears, but it kept getting louder. He tried to shout, 'Make it stop!' but couldn't hear himself or feel his throat vibrate.

Then there was nothing.

…


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter the Raven

“So, you don't know what you saw?”

“Other than a very bright light? Dick, I already told you. We didn't see anything!”

“Except a blinding light.”

“I'm not going to explain myself again.” Bruce looked around, “Where are Alfred and Zatanna?”

“In the other room. Zatanna told me that maybe Raven could help. I've already made the call.”

They scowled at each other, bristling.

“You had no right-”

Dick interrupted him, snapping, “I think I did, _Bruce._ Aren't I a part of this family, too?”

Bruce sighed.

Dick scrubbed at his face, “Listen. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said those things to you-”

“No, you're not. You meant every word.”

“Shut up. And you're right. I did, but I should have said it better. Everything was intended to hurt and harm and not actually help because _you hurt me first,_ Bruce, weather you meant it or not.” Bruce opened his mouth but Dick held up a hand, his jaw set. “You never should have given him Robin with out my permission, or you should have encouraged him to pick out a new name. I should have trusted you and you should have trusted me. We used to be partners. A team. The _best_ team. Our partnership was built on that trust and you suddenly decided that you _couldn't_ trust me? That you knew best all the time about everything?”

“It wasn't about trusting you!” Bruce exclaimed, “I didn't want you to end up like _me!_ ”

“Then you never should have let me put on a mask, because it's way too late for that!” The effort he was making to control his temper was obvious and Bruce wasn't sure he could do the same. Yet another way in which Dick was better than him, “You should never have let Jason out as Robin either. You _adopted_ him, Bruce. He was your _son._ Parents are supposed to protect their children,” his voice broke and he took a ragged breath. “Not throw them to the wind.”

Oh. Jason stared. _Oh._

“You had loving parents,” Bruce said softly, reaching for his wayward teen. Dick came willingly, “I never wanted to replace them, chum. I never wanted to replace _you.”_

“You didn't tell me. You never even gave me a choice,” Dicks voice was muffled against his chest, “Just like I never gave Jason a chance, and because of me, no one else really did either.”

Bruce rubbed the teens back as Dick squeezed him tightly.

Jason scowled at the older Bats as they hugged it out.

“You truckers better keep up this truce when I wake up, or I'm gunna be pissed.” He thought about it for a few seconds, “Actually, I'm going to be pretty pissed when I wake up anyways, but for other reasons.”

They were still hugging.

“I'm just... I'm going to go check on myself,” he grimaced, a little sad. The young ghost teen floated away. When he reached his bedroom, Jason settled himself cross-legged on the bed and pulled out his spirit egg.

“Oh no!” he wailed, “It went _down! What the shit?”_

The Egg's glow was back down to half.

“Is this because I got mad? C'mon! It's not like I hurt anybody. Scared the crap out of them, but... Ugh, fine. I probably shouldn't have destroyed so much stuff – but they were blaming me for something that isn't true! Aren't people allowed a little righteous anger when they're being slighted? Jeez.”

The Egg pulsed faintly like a heart beat, and Jason was struck silent. This was the first time it had done anything in the weeks he'd had it.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, cradling it to his cheek, “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you.”

It was warm and smooth. Comforting in the way Sparky used to be, back when Mom and Dad were still Mom and Dad.

“It's a good thing I'm dead, other wise I'd be bawling my eyes out and I doubt Dick-face would ever let me live that down.”

Jason curled up next to his body, Egg clutched to his chest.

…

“Fascinating,” the smokey timbre pulled Jason out of his ghostly rest.

It was dawn again. The sun was halfway over the horizon. He looked down at his body and was saddened to see the glow had also gone down.

“How long has this been going on?” Dick whispered, and Jason turned to look at him.

Dick was there. Bruce, Alfred. Zatanna lurking near the wall was staring wide eyed.

“We don't know. Alfred only noticed a few days ago.”

Petite, slender, and dressed all in purple, Raven stepped closer to the bed.

“There are far to many people in the room for this to work properly. If you cannot control yourself, leave,” she gave a significant look to Dick who glared back mullishly.

“I know how to behave myself.”

“It's not about behavior. It's about how _loud_ you are.”

Jason floated over towards Raven. Circling her curiously. She'd always been nice to him the very few times they'd met.

“Good luck, lady.” He said, “They don't listen very well and I'm pretty sure she doesn't like you.”

“Of course she doesn't,” Raven replied, “She's prejudiced against me because of my heritage.”

“That's harsh. Hey! You heard me!”

“ _Was that Jason? - Can you speak to him? - Ask him if he's okay - You're a demon, why should I trust you? -”_

“Quiet!” Raven waved her hand irritably, “this is not controlling yourselves!”

Jason chortled.

“I'm not leaving and you can't make me, Rae!” Dick scowled, ignoring the fact that she very well could make him leave, “Jason's here and there are things I have to say to him!”

Raven flicked her fingers in dismissal at the former boy-wonders immaturity and turned away.

“Then we will talk a different way, Jason, as our audience can't seem to understand that their emotions are drowning out your voice and making it very difficult to hear you.”

Jason laughed outright at the scandalized faces. Raven was his new hero.

“Jason,” the smokey voice called for his attention. He turned to see the Titan sitting on the bed next to his body. As he watched, she reached out and touched one of his temples, “Think of your favorite place. The rest of you,” she gave them a narrow eyed look over her shoulder, “be quiet.”

Jason snorted, floating over to Raven. His favorite place, huh? Well, he had a few...

A dark purple glow emanated from Raven, engulfing herself and the boy on the bed.

“This cannot be safe,” Zatanna muttered, “Nor is it what I had in mind when I suggested it.”

“I trust Raven with my life,” Dick stared at the two birds on the bed, “I'd trust her with yours, too.”

“Be quiet,” Bruce rumbled, “Breath. Center. Focus.”

“Ughh,” Dick flopped back in his chair. Alfred sighed.

“Indeed, Master Dick. Indeed.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's all in your head, Jason....

“An interesting choice,” Raven strolled through the library, fingers trailing along the spines. “From Dick's description, I would not have thought you to be a reader.”

“I like books,” Jason defended himself, crossing his arms over his chest. “And I can count the times Dick and I have had a normal conversation on one hand and still have four fingers left over. Don't let him fool you. We're not brothers.”

She turned and blinked at him sorrowfully.

“That is a shame. I did not expect that of him. Have you read all of these?”

“Yeah, well, I thought he'd be cooler, too.” Jason looked at the books she was gesturing at, “Yeah. I've read everything on that shelf. You know what, I think these are all the books I've ever read. Huh.”

“Which one is your favorite?”

“Uh...” he thought about it, “I don't really have a favorite favorite, but there are books that I really enjoy from a lot of different genres, soo...”

“Of course.” Raven smiled at him, “My favorite book is a the complete collection of Shakespeare's plays.”

“Not Nancy Drew?”

“No, but my favorite of hers is the Mystery of the Jade Elephant.”

Jason grinned, “I prefer Jupiter Jones myself.”

“Not Sherlock Holmes?”

“Nah. He's cool and all, and the stories are great, but he's a giant dick sometimes.” Jason rocked back on his heels, “and the Hardy boys have no personality _at all_.”

“I think most of those stories were lacking in character development.”

“I know! But at least the Three Investigators have Alfred Hitchcock. And they act like real people.”

“There is that.” Raven levitated to the top shelf. There were several very old, dusty childrens books. She floated back down, “You are not what I expected, Jason Todd.”

“Let me guess, Dick-wing never had anything good to say about me?”

“It is more that he said very little about you in the first place. I do know, however, that you're supposed to be dead.”

Jason stiffened.

“Yeah. Well. I got better.”

“Easy, Jason,” Raven smiled, “It was the only concrete fact that I knew. I did not mean to offend you.”

The boy sniffed, stomped to a chair, and threw himself in it, “You're not going to blame me for my own death as well, are you?”

“Of course not.”

“Good. Because I didn't try to get myself killed and it's not fair that they think they can just blame everything on me like that. I mean, Dick's been fighting with Bruce for the past three years! I get a little rebellious and all of a sudden it's 'oh, he was unfit to be robin,' and 'oh, he was too angry', 'I'm not your father, Jason! I don't have time for this!'.”

All the books on the shelves began to vibrate dangerously.

“Jason,” Raven soared over to the boy and gently cupped his cheek. The boy jerked and stared at her. All the books stopped at once,“I would never blame someone for something they couldn't control. I didn't ask to be born half demon and you didn't ask to get murdered. Did you ask to be resurrected?”

“No,” Jason said faintly, he was staring at her, eyes wide, “I was given a choice. I chose to come back. How did you do that?”

“I'm an empath,” Raven said, “and apparently my powers work on spirits, too. Though, I guess you're technically still alive as well, so that's probably why. Tell me more about your choice?”

“Sure,” Jason laughed wetly and nodded, “Yeah, um, it all started when I met Charon by the Styx...”

…

It had been minutes since everyone had stared warily at the teacups rumbling dangerously in their saucers before they'd stilled.

“How long is this going to take?” Dick groaned, “Jeez, Raven what could the two of you possibly be talking about?”

“Maybe, had you taken the time to get to know the boy better, you might already have the answer to your question,” Alfred said quietly, “Now, Master Dick, control your emotions.”

Dick swallowed a growl. Alfred didn't deserve that and he only spoke the truth.

“Yeah, well-”

Alfred looked at him over the top of his teacup. His eyes were hard and there was a firmness to the set of his mouth that had Dick crossing his arms and sliding down into his chair like a child.

Bruce, the statue, said nothing.

…

“They're getting impatient.”

Jason scowled, “Well, they can wait. I literally haven't had a real conversation since before I died. And before that, the only people I really talked to were Bruce and Alfred and Bruce doesn't talk books and Alfred has other stuff to do.”

“Don't you have any other friends?”

“Well,” the teen sighed, “There's Eddie, but he doesn't live around here and we're just penpals. And I've been following this kid Tim around, but he's a stalker and when I wake up, I'll probably punch him in the nose. After that, I think we could get along? Maybe? Batgirl only tolerates me on good days. Detective Bullock is nice enough, once you get past the snarl. Plus, he only knows me as Robin. He actually really likes old movies and told me once that he was a feather-weight champ as a kid. I didn't believe it until I saw him hit a dude. _Damn._ ”

Raven smiled. She was sitting in one of the leather wingback chairs his mind had conjured; knees and legs together, ankles hooked under the chair like a Lady.

Lady Raven. Ha. Nevermore!

Jason giggled. Raven raised a brow.

“As much as I enjoy conversing with you, Jason, I cannot stay here forever and you shouldn't either,” the woman leaned foreword, “your family is waiting for answers to questions I haven't pushed for. What do you want me to tell them?”

Jason sighed prodigiously.

“Tell them I'm okay and I'll be back as soon as I finish my trial. Tell them... I'll explain everything once I wake up (which should be soon) and that until then, it's none of their damn business. Tell them, tell _Bruce,”_ Jason ran a hand through his hair and swallowed, “tell him not to worry and that everything's going to be okay. Please. Oh, tell Alfred I met Charon. He'll get a kick out of that.”

“Of course.”

He cleared his throat, “Will, uh, will you come back? Would you, please?”

Raven stood effortlessly and floated over to him and kissed his forehead. He crossed his arms over his chest and sunk deep into his chair, blushing furiously.

“I don't see why not,” she patted his head, laughing at his scowl, “Catch you on the flip side, Jason.”

...

“I can't believe you, Raven!” Dick exclaimed, “That's some bullshit you're spewing. You really expect us to believe that after all that time, 'I'm fine, don't worry' was the only message Jason had?”

“For you? Yes.” Raven replied, “He wants to explain everything in person and I'm respecting his wishes. Though he has a separate message for Mr. Wayne. And Mr. Pennyworth.”

“Why couldn't he just explain it to us _now?”_

“Probably because he does not believe in the 'us' that you're talking about.”

Dick froze. Raven felt the mans anger solidify swiftly into rage.

“What did you just say?” he said softly, blue eyes narrowed and icy.

Raven tilted her head at him.

“Perhaps you should ask yourself why that makes you mad.”

Dick took a step and suddenly found himself free falling through the sky. The wind roared by, whipping his hair and jacket. He zeroed in on the roof of Wayne Manor. It wasn't that far – twenty – fifteen feet – Dick twisted in the air, hit the slant with his shoulder, rolled and sprang to his feet, breathing heavily.

“Fuck.”

A small portal opened in front of him and a note fluttered through.

_Take ten and breathe. If you go in there full of rage, you'll only upset Jason even more. And Alfred, who from what I can tell, has his limits despite his stiff upper lip._

_Be. Calm._

The last two words were underlined several times.

Dick crumpled the note and stuffed it in his pocket. He breathed deep and settled down into a cross-legged position. Whispered, _'Thanks, Raven'_ into the breeze, and didn't come down until Bruce texted him it was dinner time.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe, I actually have the very last chapter to this story written. Like. Wow. Now, to work my way through the middle. Omgosh, how do you marathoners DO IT?

A week later...

“What the shit, Tim?” Jason floated in through the younger teen's window. Tim was sitting in the middle of the room surrounded by a mess of electronics and... was that an ouija board?

“Stupid, stupid, stupid – whoever _wrote_ these instructions -” Tim tossed them in the air in exasperation, careful not to mess with the heap of wires in his lap, “was a complete moron.”

“Whatever you say, Timbers,” Jason settled onto the bed, “whatever you say.”

“Half of these parts are redundant!” Tim went on, “I'm going to have to- UGH! When I get around to writing a review about Ghostfacers equipment, they'll wish they'd never seen a ghost with their faces before in their lives!”

Jason snickered and played with one of the little antennae sticking out. It bobbled gently, which pleased the ghost boy tremendously.

“What the hell is this shi-stuff, Tim-bits? You going to take up ghostbusting?”

There was a little buzz and Tim turned violently, tossing the heap of wires, and picked a black cassette player.

“It works?!” The boy was completely floored. “It's a flipping walkman with lights on top!”

“Uh, what?”

Tim fiddled with the dial and swung it around the room in a slow circle. When it was finally pointed at Jason, the thing went haywire.

“Oh. My gosh.” Tim's eyes were huge, “Jason? Is that you? Wait! Don't say anything yet!” He turned and plunged into the mess of wires, casings, boxes, and bubble wrap. When he finally poked his head out, he had another cassette player which he settled on his bed after tossing everything else off with one big sweep of his arm. Then he plugged in a pair of headphones and put them on, plugged in a microphone and held it in front of him. “Okay, I'm ready.”

“Whatever you say, nerd.”

Tim blinked, “Wait! I forgot to push record! Okay, now. Jason, is that you?”

He held out the microphone a foot below Jason's face and two to the left. Jason laughed and floated over.

“Yes. What's up, stalker?”

Tim waited another ten seconds, then he pushed stop, rewind, and play. His whole demeanor plummeted shortly thereafter. “Dang it!”

“It didn't work.”

Jason just floated around and laughed when Tim threw himself on the bed, cracking his skull on a piece of technology.

“You know I'm almost back up to speed with the glowy,” he told Tim amiably, “Shouldn't be too much longer before we can talk like normal people. After I punch you in the nose.”

…

She hadn't believed it, not until her people showed her the evidence. After that, it still hadn't really sunk in it had been that poor boy, that pure, precocious boy who'd ultimately enabled her to do away with a rouge member of the Untitled, was _dead._

He'd been Robin. And then her Beloved had let him _die._

Talia clenched her fist and watched the rise and fall of Jason Todd's chest as he slept.

It was late. The moon shone through the curtains. She'd had to see. It hadn't been hard sneaking in, but it hadn't been easy – just time consuming and ultimately dissatisfying.

But.

Talia needed to see the boy she'd left behind in that warehouse long ago; whom she thought of occasionally; whom she quietly compared to her own beloved son and found neither wanting.

Jason's room had not been hard to locate. Her Beloved was predictable that way – keeping his son close enough to protect, far enough to feign 'distance'. Perhaps, though, it was a Father thing. Talia had memories of her Father influencing her choice of rooms many a time in such a fashion.

(That had been a very long time ago and her Father no longer showed any such inclinations.)

Ghostly moonlight illuminated the boy on the bed, giving his skin an unearthly, marble like look. It was not the body of the animated young pre-teen she remembered.   
Talia ran a hand through the boys unruly hair. Soft, so soft, and in the moonlight she could see – yes. Those were the beginnings of white hairs in the middle of his hair line glinting faintly.

Perhaps, if her Beloved had not been so stubborn in their relationship, she could have trained the boy. Given him League training. She could have made him invincible. Or close to it. Bruce himself had trained with her under her Father and had benefited from it greatly.

Perhaps it was her fault for not asking about the new Robin. Perhaps it was her fault for not simply taking the boy after he'd demonstrated his prowess against the Untitled.

If. If. If.

Talia did not waste her time on _if._ She'd made her decisions as best she could and she lived with them and their consequences. Unlike Bruce, she did not dwell in the past.

“Perhaps, child,” Talia murmured, “When you awaken...”

She trailed off, her hand resting in the boys hair, her gaze out the window.

A part of Talia felt that she should feel vindicated in not telling her Beloved certain truths sooner. Another part lamented the _what could have been's_. Mostly, though, her mood was melancholic.

Her hand in the boys hair tingled and, drawing her attention away from the window, she smiled faintly and rubbed the boys furrowed brows with her thumb. It had been a soothing action she'd done for her beloved child when he'd been a baby and it seemed to work now, too. Perhaps he was dreaming while trapped in this state.

She wondered how furious her Beloved would be if she simply took the boy and dunked him in one of her Father's pits.

“If your Father wouldn't tear the world apart for you,” Talia smiled softly at the sleeping boy, “I would consider it. Or had I come across your body first... Well, let us not dwell on the 'what if's'. We'll talk more later, Jason, after you awaken.”

Talia prepared to take her leave, leaned over, and kissed the boy with butterfly lips.

...

Tim took the bus into Gotham early, and for once, headed to a friends house (Ives?). Jason left Tim there, confident that he'd be seeing the little brat later that night.

Jason floated around Gotham.

Raven had come to visit him twice. He'd enjoyed talking with her a lot and had even explained more of what he was going through to her and she'd given him some advice. Some of it had worked, some of it hadn't.

Raven acted like a Lady, too. Like. A _real_ lady. It didn't hurt that she was really pretty, too... Even if she was probably five years his senior.

Sirens ripped his thoughts away from Raven. Firetrucks barreled by. Jason snagged one.

“Onwards and upwards!” he shouted gleefully. The glee died as they reached a blazing inferno of a building. It wasn't huge, like the manor, but it was definitely bigger than most stand alone homes built in Gotham. Probably because it wasn't just a home, but a school as well. One Jason recognized well.

Ma Gunn's.

Kids, boys from the home Jason presumed, and onlookers crowded the streets. Something in the building exploded and everyone flinched back. There was shouting and crying as the wailing siren shut off. Jason could barely make anything out except for one very clear voice saying, “She's still in there!”

“Fudge it.”

Jason flew as fast as he could into the fiery building. Even if it was Ma Gunn, a woman he didn't particularly like; she didn't deserve this. No one did.

Well. Maybe _one_ someone.

“Ma!” he shouted, holding an arm up to shield himself from the flames, even though he knew they couldn't hurt him. “Ma! Where are you!”

The flames were too much. There was no way the firefighters were going to be able to get in.

“Ma!” he got low beneath the smoke and searched the house as best and quick as he could. Where the hell was she? Wait! He back tracked and spotted a closed door – a bathroom, if he remembered correctly – maybe?

“Yes! Ma! You gotta get up,” Jason urged the old woman. She was in a bathtub filled with water, “Get up! Help is here!”

Ma Gunn splashed and coughed. She looked up blearily.

“Willis?”

Jason's heart stuttered.

“Willis is that you, son?” the old woman gasped, then fell into a coughing fit, splashing the water, and couldn't stop.

Flames were licking the tubs edges. She wouldn't last much longer.

_Jason._

“Who's there?”

_The egg. Throw it into the flames._

“But I need it! I wont wake up with out it.”

_Peace_.

Jason pulled out the egg, clutching it tightly. It was nearly full.

“But I wont wake up,” he sobbed.

_Faith_.

The old woman stopped moving. Her eyes were glazing and her mouth moving slowly. Jason pursed his lips. If he didn't do something _now..._

“Get ready, you old hag, because here goes nothing!”

Jason threw the egg into the flames. Immediately, the fires turned blue and parted, forming a pathway towards the front. Smoke vanished and the heat remained, but it was diminished.

“Alright, Ma, up and at 'em.” Jason reached into the tub and hauled the old woman up.

“Will..ly...”

“Sorry, Ma,” Jason said as they staggered towards the front door. He could already see firemen coming towards them, “Just Jason.”

Fireman rushed in and grabbed the old lady in the over the shoulder fireman's carry Jason couldn't achieve as a ghost. Flames flickered – blue, orange, blue, orange. Fire surged through the hallway, completely flooding the building once again, licking the heels of the firemen as they sprinted back out.

In the middle of the flames, Jason stood, hands tugging on his hair. Walls collapsed around him and the ceiling fell down.

“Jason.”

The teen whirled. In the fires stood a woman.

“Help-”

She flickered like bad ghost CGI.

“-Me.”

Then she was gone.

“What the frick.”

Jason shook his head and floated away. He needed to-to- He needed to get away. Or just stay there. In the flames. He'd wasted his only chance at waking up on an old woman who'd had him beaten once and, honestly, sitting in the middle of a burning house fit his mood perfectly. Why? Why him? Why was he constantly-always-why did he always have to be the one to make the sacrifice?

He was dead.

Again.

Forever.

He'll never get a Bruce hug now. 

“What the fuck am I going to do now?” Jason cried, curling up in the flames, clutching himself and trying not to be too angry with Ma Gunn and Charon, and the stupid angel and stupid Dick, and stupid Tim and

Then he woke up.


End file.
